


Sweet

by missigma



Category: DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missigma/pseuds/missigma
Summary: Bruce did not appear until ten minutes after the tour had started, trailing along behind the group. He nodded at the few journalists who noticed his presence, but did not interrupt the tour.In spite of himself, Clark found his attention drawn to Bruce, even though he did not speak. He stood at the back of the group, arms crossed and chin lifted in easy arrogance.Bruce had something in his mouth. Once every few minutes, it would clack loudly against his teeth, drawing annoyed glances from the rest of the group. It was not like Bruce to fidget, but it fit quite smoothly into his portrayal of Bruce Wayne.It took Clark several covert glances before he worked out what the object was. Finally, Bruce parted his lips as he rolled it across his tongue. Clark caught a brief glimpse of a piece of bright, translucent pink candy before Bruce had pushed it into his cheek.





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deleted scene from a heavily edited fic that I might post later. Until then, enjoy this as PWP.

The invitation was for a press tour of the half-abandoned building that Wayne Financial was again trying to get the permits to demolish. And really, that wasn’t anything to be excited about, because it was not an invitation to speak one-on-one with Bruce. There was absolutely nothing personal about it. Frowning to himself, Clark couldn’t help think that at least Bruce wasn’t ignoring him.

Still, Clark showed up to the decrepit building mid afternoon the next day. Obediently, he filed inside behind several of his peers, dutifully noting the remarks of their tour guide.

Bruce did not appear until ten minutes after the tour had started, trailing along behind the group. He nodded at the few journalists who noticed his presence, but did not interrupt the tour.

In spite of himself, Clark found his attention drawn to Bruce, even though he did not speak. He stood at the back of the group, arms crossed and chin lifted in easy arrogance. 

Bruce had something in his mouth. Once every few minutes, it would clack loudly against his teeth, drawing annoyed glances from the rest of the group. It was not like Bruce to fidget, but it fit quite smoothly into his portrayal of Bruce Wayne.

It took Clark several covert glances before he worked out what the object was. Finally, Bruce parted his lips as he rolled it across his tongue. Clark caught a brief glimpse of a piece of bright, translucent pink candy before Bruce had pushed it into his cheek.

As he leaned against the railing which was quite clearly labelled “KEEP OFF”, he worked the lozenge around his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and pursed his lips, before allowing the candy to fall to the back of his mouth.

There he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His tongue, now a fluorescent shade of pink, snuck out as he licked his lips.

Bruce dug in his pocket. With a crinkle of plastic, he unwrapped another sweet. Swiftly, he pushed it between his lips, before sucking the remaining sweetness off his thumb and forefinger. 

“Is this boring you, Mr. Wayne?” The question rolled off his tongue before Clark had really thought it through. 

He felt a dozen pairs of eyes on him as he faced Bruce down. Clark knew he was far from the only one who was annoyed, he had seen the eyerolls. Still, he had crossed a line.

Bruce propped himself against the wall, still distractedly pushing the candy around his mouth. “I’m fine, Kent.” He held Clark’s gaze, lips quirked smugly.

Their guide cleared his throat, glaring at Bruce. “Let’s move on,” he cut in, voice firm as he tried to dispel the tension. 

“Kent.” A single word from Bruce held Clark back. Teeth gritted, he waited for the room to clear, the rest of the group moving into the hallway.

“I expected you to be polite when I invited you here.” Bruce fingered the badge labeled “Wayne Financial”, tugging at the lanyard Clark wore around his neck. He pinched the little metal clamp that held the piece of plastic, but Clark swatted his hand away.

“You spent the whole afternoon acting like you don’t want to be here and now you say I’m the one being rude?”

“If you can’t behave, I’m going to call security.” Again, Bruce reached for the badge that lay on Clark’s chest. Clark seized his wrist and forced him against the wall. 

“You know you’re a fucking prick, right?”

“Am I?” There was a slight crunch as Bruce sandwiched the piece of candy between his molars.

Without thinking, Clark shoved his fingers in Bruce’s mouth. Quickly, he pulled the lozenge free and tossed it on the concrete. 

For a second, Bruce froze, surprised. Then slowly, he tipped his head back against the wall, lips still parted. His eyes were dark, lashes falling low on his cheeks as he waited for Clark to make a move.

Now, Clark realized he had been baited. It had been so easy for Bruce to wind him up, even though Clark knew he was playing a character, knew he was only wearing a mask.

Clark knew he should have been furious for being played that way. He should make it clear to Bruce that he wasn’t interested in these games.

Instead, Clark pushed forwards, crushing their mouths together. Bruce’s lips were sticky, sweet, and eager. He responded fiercely to the kiss, sliding his tongue into Clark’s mouth.

Clark pressed their bodies together, chests and hips meeting. Shifting forwards, Bruce ground himself against him. Hand diving between them, Bruce cupped him through his trousers. Clark drew back, moaning softly at his touch. As he moved away, Bruce bit into his lower lip, pulling the flesh taut.

Then Bruce knelt, tugging Clark’s trousers down as he went. 

“Bruce-” Clark began. He faltered as Bruce stretched out his tongue. In one long sweep, Bruce licked him from root to tip. Then he paused at the crown of his cock, lapping gently at the slickly sensitive flesh.

Clark stopped breathing as he stared, transfixed, at Bruce’s mouth. Knowing he had his complete attention, Bruce tilted his head back, a hint of smugness still remaining on his lips. Grasping the base of Clark’s cock, he slid his mouth down around him.

“Bruce-” Clark tried again, before biting his cheek to stifle a groan. ”Bruce, anyone could come in here.”

With a broad roll of his eyes, Bruce pulled off. ”Alright, boy scout. I’ll stop.”

Bruce leaned back on his heels, but did not make any move to stand. His lips were pink and wet and it was all too easy to picture the way they had looked around his cock just seconds before. Clark shuddered as Bruce slid out the thin pink sliver of his tongue.

Fisting his hand in Bruce’s hair, he thrust himself back between those gorgeous lips. He felt the tug and stretch of muscle as Bruce tried to smirk around his cock. 

His gloating soon subsided, replaced by simple enthusiasm. Clark could only wonder if he actually enjoyed this. Bruce curled his hand around the back of Clark’s thigh as if to encourage him to press deeper, but Clark was too afraid of his own strength to push very far. 

“Bruce-” Clark breathed, in a half-panicked whisper. He was so close, hands clenched painfully tight in Bruce’s hair. 

He came, biting so hard at the inside of his mouth that he tasted blood. Cradling Bruce’s head in his hands, he held him still as he worked a few final thrusts into his mouth. Clark could feel Bruce’s throat shift against him as he swallowed around him.

Finally, Clark released him and Bruce leaned back on his haunches, licking his lips. His mouth was red and raw, the sight somehow absurdly obscene.

“Jesus.” Clark scrubbed his palm across his face. “Come here.” 

Clark pulled him up to his feet. He found his lips again, the sweet sugar of his mouth now faded as he tasted himself on him. Hastily, he reached down, making quick work of his belt.

“You don’t need to,” Bruce tried to dissuade him. 

“I want to.” Clark worked his hands into Bruce’s boxers and pulled them down. He found him hard and leaking. He ran his knuckles gently up his shaft, just to watch his reaction. 

Bruce tugged his lip back between his teeth as he bit back a moan. When Clark wrapped his hand around him, he leaned into the wall, eyes briefly falling shut. 

“I want to see you like this,” Clark lowered his voice as he put his lips to Bruce’s jaw. Dipping down, he loosened Bruce’s collar until he could nip gently at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Bruce opened his eyes, inhaling quietly as Clark’s teeth scraped his skin. 

Everything he had done while he was on his knees seemed like part of a performance. Barely back on his feet and arching into Clark, he was quieter somehow. Clark loved to have him like this, coming undone at his hands. 

When Bruce was close, he grasped at Clark’s shoulders as if trying to hold himself up. Bruce thrust up into his fist, panting desperately. Clark leaned in and kissed his moan off his lips.

****

“I think your suit’s ruined.” Clark wiped at the wool afterwards, trying to sponge away the spot where Bruce had came on himself. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Bruce caught his wrist, stilling his hand. “The tour’s over.”

“Was this what you wanted when you invited me here?”

“Not entirely,” Bruce chuckled darkly, still resting back against the wall. “I had planned on talking with you first, before sucking you off.”

“Talking about what?”

“Hmm.” Bruce tipped his head back. “If you give me time to change, we can discuss it over dinner.”


End file.
